


The Hypocrisy of Cathedrals

by Rainbow Smite (apathys_whore)



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Catholic Guilt, Coercion, Cruelty, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Other, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Xeno, all the bad things associated with Prime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:34:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26043565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apathys_whore/pseuds/Rainbow%20Smite
Summary: "Prime has had few hobbies that held his interest over the centuries, but there is one that always brings him pleasure: breaking things down. Opening them up. Seeing how they work. To lay something bare and dissect it, to study all of its parts with the greatest of scrutiny while it thrashed and squirmed will always be amusing. This new planet may hold delights untold, and the anticipation only makes it that much sweeter. He will wait, just a bit, before he sinks the first claw into it, virgin territory yielding and unfolding before his might.Yes, he will have Etheria, just as he has had everything else in the universe. But before the main course, there must be h’orderves. And he has the most interesting of treats awaiting him. Something with which to bide his time. His defective brother, so desperate to return to his embrace, will be fun to take apart as well."
Relationships: Hordak/Horde Prime (She-Ra)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	The Hypocrisy of Cathedrals

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter title is from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6pzH3m3MIAg) In reality, it's most likely about substance abuse so if that's touchy for you maybe don't. I just think 
> 
> Give me conviction  
> Give me crusade  
> And wicked behaviour  
> So the sinner is saved  
> Blame blame baby blame  
> Confession will spare your name with blame  
> Your name in flames and shame  
> Shame on you  
> Blame sister blame  
> Your guilt is purified in flames  
> From blame your name from shame  
> Shame on you
> 
> Is very what I'm going for here.

The universe is governed by very little. For the most part, it is matter gravitating towards matter. Particles coalescing. Becoming. Morphing and igniting and compounding into stars and planets, nebulae and meteors, burning screaming spinning rupturing crashing uncontrolled. Chaotic. Messy.

Truly, this cacophony is something to be despised as the things it gives rise to are horrendous. Planets laid to waste by dying stars, their surfaces now an irradiated husk. Solar systems devoured by a star's gravity, their mass so great they pull everything around them down into their flames. Planets so hot that they rain glass; billions of tiny knives ripping through the atmosphere. Hostile, horrible, useless.

But the worst of all is life. Seething, crawling, oozing masses all loudly clambering for more more _more_ , their hunger unending. For eons, he has watched what other life forms are capable of, and he has found them lacking.

Prime has come to live by a rigid philosophy. Curated over the millennia and refined down to a simple fact: to want is a crime. A cardinal sin. Wanting leads to greed; to covetous desire, then to war. Endless, senseless violence where there is no true winner. The only prizes gained were loss and suffering. It was exhausting, really, that most beings were too unevolved to grasp this, too simple in their mindset to realize they themselves were the root of their problems. Wasn’t it better then, that the universe be governed by order rather than chaos? Guided by a deft, firm hand as opposed to the mindless greed of the inhabitants? Too wanton and wasteful for their own good, consuming everything around them. Instead, Prime would provide all that was needed. Prime would bring peace and enlightenment to the unwashed masses. In turn the only thing they should desire was his approval, his love.

Just like his little brothers. Tailor made little life forms, never fussing or struggling against his doctrine; always reverent and obedient. All of them together working in perfect unison. Their small thoughts a happy, thrumming buzz in the back of his mind at all times. How glad they were, to have such great purpose. How thankful they were, to be allowed to bask in his light. What could be better than serving the one who had created order in the universe at last? 

Attending to the one who had brought enlightenment and civilization to countless lives, despite the primitives kicking and screaming the whole way. His work is exhausting, and at times even frustrating, but by now he has it down to a science. There's a rhythm to the teaching, an order. A delicate dance of subjugation and indoctrination. They always resist at first, too set in their flawed ways. Generally, they must be crushed completely, their egos broken down to nothing with their kingdoms in flames, in order to finally accept peace and light. But Prime and his brothers are infinite, unyielding. A flawlessly composed missionary melody executed with precision. But then, something discordant happened; a sour note in his otherwise perfect meter. A defect. A mistake. And like all mistakes, he had been cast out.

Prime, in his infinite wisdom and kindness, had tried to send him out with honor. To die on the battlefield with glory in the name of his creator. Instead this defect kneels before him again, a testament of undying loyalty, craven to serve. He has returned from parts unknown, dragging with him not only two other lifeforms, but an entire planet of backward creatures. And what a mess he’d made of this new conquest. A terrible impression of Prime’s divine Horde. 

Poor little thing, trying to lead an army like that. His brothers are simply not meant to lead. They are created only to serve. It’s no surprise that he had done such a terrible job; that he had been manipulated and felled so easily by his subordinates. Lucky for him, Prime is merciful. He is willing to take him back into the fold despite his failings; willing to correct his lowly, animalistic behavior. It seems that, hidden from the light of Prime, even his brothers will become corrupt. For this one wanted _more_ than to be a good boy. As if wanting something wasn’t bad enough on its own. This one thought he could be favored. Held on high and beloved above all of his brothers. How selfish, how greedy of him to want more, especially when Prime loves all of his brothers equally. He would have to be reconditioned for that, certainly.

This little brother had to be shown that wanting will only lead to pain. Especially when he had wanted something other than the peace and order Prime had so graciously brought to the universe. 

What a strange thing he wanted indeed. Purple hair. Red eyes. Gentle gloved hands. Diminutive. Soft. Despite that, she had been a blur of motion, a wellspring of knowledge and innovation; exuberant and enthusiastic. Her heart so open Little Brother had fallen head first into it.

He had wanted to stay with her. To build a nest for them to tinker away in; two defects hidden from the cleansing light of Prime. 

It was only when she was gone did he resume his journey home. But still, his labor should be rewarded. And not just that of the portal, but his missionary work as well. Despite his flaws, this brother had been kind and generous in trying to bring these heathens to Prime's light. To fight for so long in order to return to his side. And in such a sickly state too. Poor defect. His body would collapse, as hard as he may try to be like the others. He would only slow them down, gumming up the works of the machine they worked so hard to maintain. He could be propped up with chemicals, reinforced with outside structures, but try as he might eventually he would fail again.

And yet, it seemed a waste to be rid of him. His time away had done things to him. How interesting this one had become. Deviant, in a way; corrupted by the chaos and want of an uncivilized world. How fascinating it would be to crack his mind open, to lay him bare entirely; to witness the seething mass of imperfection he had become. To see those sins burn away by Prime’s light.

Once his new guests had been settled he would deal with his wayward brother himself.

Prime’s steps echoed in the cold hallways of the Velvet Glove, sterling heels clicking on chrome floors, his stride metronome perfect. He passes the cell holding the little queen, knowing she could hear him but could not see him, and Prime revels in the fear she must feel. Until this moment her universe was a void, an empty dimension with only her world. And now she is here among the stars, so very near their ruler. And she is powerless. Stranded and without her magics. Though he could see no evidence they had served her particularly well thus far. 

She could not even stop the defect and his cobbled together army, silly ploy that it had been. If she was frightened of his brother, how fun it would be, to watch her tremble before Prime himself. Though in time, she will come to count herself lucky. He would have snapped her fragile neck had the feline not informed him of her importance. Apparently she’s a piece of a whole, one of a set, and Prime considers himself a bit of a collector.

Mostly though, it is the planet she rules that interests him. A weapon of that caliber would be useful. At the very least, it will be interesting to study. Prime has had few hobbies that were able to hold his interest over the centuries, but there is one that always brings him pleasure: breaking things down. Opening them up. Seeing how they work. To lay something bare and dissect it, to study all of its parts with the greatest of scrutiny and watch it thrash and _squirm_ will always be amusing. This new planet may hold delights untold, and the anticipation only makes it that much sweeter. He will wait, just a bit, before he sinks the first claw into it, virgin territory yielding and unfolding before his might.

Yes, he will have Etheria, just as he has had everything else in the universe. But before the main course, there must be h’orderves. And he has the most interesting of treats awaiting him. Something with which to bide his time. His defective brother, so desperate to return to his embrace, will be fun to take apart as well. 

Prime comes to a stop before another force field, identical to every other in his ship. He taps the middle, his diamond sigil appearing briefly before the wall fades away. The interior of the chamber is unadorned and unfurnished, as its occupant is unworthy of such luxuries. Little Brother looks reasonably penitent, awash in the uranium green and scalpel silver light of the ship. He’s waiting on his knees, hands gripping at the bare flesh of his thighs uselessly; the lines of his body tense, _anxious_.

“Welcome home, Little Brother,” Prime drawls, voice bathwater warm as he gazes curiously down at his wayward sibling. There is black smudged thickly around his eyes, and his mouth bears a faint trace of it as well. Even his hair, once pristine white, is now an indigo blue. “I see you’ve deviated from my image,” he says, raising his brow as he looks him over. Cosmetic alteration had never once been allowed in his Horde, and to see one of his brothers fall prey to it irritates him. Prime had made them in his image. Prime selected how they were supposed to look. For this brother to change his appearance was to deny Prime’s sovereignty over him. To deny Prime’s control meant that he had chosen chaos over order. Darkness over light. But he was not yet beyond salvation. 

Fear blooms on his brother’s face, and Prime watches, vaguely amused, as the defect stutters out an excuse. “My Lord, it was nothing but a war tactic, I assure you! The natives found this color scheme to be intimidating.”

“Is that so?” Prime asks, secondary eyes rolling around their sockets to focus on his brother. “Was the visage I gave you not intimidating enough?”

Little Brother squirms in his place, eyes darting around the room as he scrambles for an answer. “They found the white and green to be soothing. Peaceful.”

Prime sees this as the excuse that it is, and allows it to amuse him. He has tangled this brother in his own words, and to watch him struggle in the web brings him pleasure. “You seem to misunderstand our goal on a fundamental level then, Little Brother. Did you forget that we are indeed bringing peace to the universe?”

The defect looks down at the polished floor, uselessly clenching the fabric of his dress. “Forgive me, Lord Prime. I was wrong to alter my appearance. Their planet was already mired in unrest, and I did not think they were capable of accepting peace without force or fear.”

“Dear little brother,” Prime says, abandoning the ire and derision in his tone to slip fondness in its place, “I did not create you to think. I designed you and your brothers to obey. It is not surprising that you were so lost without my guiding hand. I suppose it is to be expected that you made so many wrong decisions. It must have been difficult for you, to be all on your own like that. Away from your brothers. Away from _me._ ”

Little brother sits up straight now, nodding in agreement. “I was lost without your light to guide me! I suffered every second I was not at your side!”

“Do you believe that you have suffered enough, Little Brother? Enough to deserve forgiveness?”

The defect before him says nothing, and takes to looking at the floor again. There is no right or wrong answer to this question, as it is a fact this brother has suffered quite a bit already. Prime is already willing to take him back into his flock. But he is curious what he will say. He has given the question enough weight that this brother will believe his existence hinges upon the answer.

Finally, he opens his black lined mouth, and hesitantly, he says, “It is not my place to make that decision, my Lord.” It’s a safe answer, because it is not truly an answer, but what the defect thinks he wants to hear. Prime could push him past breaking here. Demand a yes or no answer, and pick apart the flaws in each one. But he has other questions to ask. Other wheels he wants to break him on.

Prime smiles, pleased. “Do you wish for absolution, Little Brother?” 

“Yes, Lord Prime.” And he says it in a whisper. Like if he dares speak too loudly everything around him might break, and he will be denied. But Prime is merciful. And he has already made his decision.

“Then unburden yourself of your failures. Starting with that terrible armor,” he purrs out, a cruel promise hidden in the rich notes of his voice. Little Brother’s newly green eyes widen almost imperceptibly and Prime watches as his hands begin to tremble; gnat’s wing flutter under the burning sun of his gaze. 

“Why do you hesitate, Little Brother?” And his tone is almost teasing, as if he didn’t know. As if he didn’t see the whole sordid tale played to the bitter end all walled off safe and sound in his mind

The poor thing looks away, pain and shame gouging into his expression. And, in a rare gesture, Prime crouches down to his level, the bend of his body is fluid, graceful; an ironic genuflection. One lone hand, strong and steady, reaches out to grasp his brother’s chin. 

Gently, insistently, he turns the defect’s head back, the cold metal claw adorning his index finger digging into tender flesh. “Do not look away from me,” he coos, the ghost of his breath warm and alive against his brother's face. “Now, why do you hesitate to remove that _junk_? Are you disobeying my order?”

“Never!” he gasps out, face still cradled in Prime’s hand. 

“Then why are you still wearing it?” Prime’s tone is flat, playing at unamused.

“I-I simply do not wish to inflict my defect on you, my Lord. It is unsightly. Not worthy of your eyes.”

“Is that why? I had perhaps thought it had sentimental value,” he says, dragging his finger down his brother's face. Prime’s index claw carefully traces over the ridge of his cheek, the dip of chin. The sharp tip teasing delicate flesh as it runs down his throat, skating over his windpipe in its descent to the empty diamond shaped slot in his armor. The metal of his claw taps against it twice, the click deafening in the silence.

“It means nothing to me! _She_ means nothing to me!”

Oh yes, this is what Prime has been waiting for. For his brother to lay bare his sins of his own volition. “She? Pray tell, who is _she_?” he asks. His hand snakes its way back to little brother’s chin, and he holds it firmly in place as their eyes meet, Prime’s gaze unyielding. 

“No one.” Little Brother whispers.

“And yet you’ve brought her up unprompted.” Prime drawls, letting his grip fall from his brother’s face.

“She...helped. Design the armor.”

“Couldn’t do it yourself then, Little Brother?” And for many moments, the defect is silent. The weight of his failures crashing down upon him as he kneels before his god. “Speak up, Little Brother.” Prime drawls, prompting his confession.

“I was...too weak, my Lord.” 

“How merciful she was then, to take pity on you. Such a fine mind she must have to create something from so little. Tell me, where is she now?” He knows, of course, that this is what will cause him to crumble. He is simply curious about how the pieces will fall. 

“She is dead.” And he says it like he’s being choked, barely getting the words past his lips.

“How did she die?” Prime asks casually. “Catra...sent her to die,” Little Brother whispers, forcing the truth out through a throat swollen with grief.

“Why would you allow that?”

“I didn’t!” he screams, slamming both palms down against the floor, the dull thud of flesh against metal thrumming in their ears. “She deceived me! Made me think I had been betrayed!”

“How naive, Little Brother. But, _why_ did you believe her?” And it is a curiosity, that he had allowed the feline to stay after so many missteps. His brother must truly have a soft heart.

“I did not think that...” Little Brother speaks like the words are caught in his throat, like saying them brings him actual pain, “that she would want to...sully herself. By spending time with a defect like me.” He whispers, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes before tumbling down his face, mixing with the cosmetics to make a smeary, sludgy mess. 

“Why do you weep, Little Brother?” Prime tuts, artificial sympathy oozing in his tenor. 

“I-I miss her.” The defect’s voice is empty, his whisper a dried out husk of a thing; his heart bled dry from sorrow. 

“Poor Little Brother.” Prime cups his face again, the wetness of tears and ruined makeup staining his hands. “This is why the universe needs my light. To make sure tragedies like this do not happen.” His thumbs stroke just above his ears, and the defect’s rheumy eyes widen. “So guileless creatures like yourself do not have to feel such pain. Do you wish for me to take the agony away?” Prime asks, cocking his head slightly.  
  
“Please! Take this from me. Cleanse me of this horror!” His wide eyes bloom tears anew, running hot and sticky over Prime’s hands. Oh yes, this brother is well on his way to absolution.

“Then you must unburden yourself of the reminders.” Prime’s eyebrows arch, and the corners of his lips quirk in the slightest of smiles. He lowers his hands from his brother’s face and caresses over the armor he still wears, auxiliary eyes roving over the metal contours. If this one truly wants to be forgiven, to be welcomed back, he must shed any desire he ever had for anything but Prime’s love.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't use any names here because this is from Prime's pov and he doesn't use names. Hordak says Catra like, twice I think. Anyway, Prime is terrible but his tits are huge and he’s hot as hell. He has panache. I cannot resist him. I don't tend to think of characters as real people. You know, because they're not. They're just little dollies that I get to play with. Unfortunately the way I play with all my dollies is I bite their heads off like I'm the Pale Man from Pan's Labyrinth. I'm using Prime to chew on my favorite toys. I believe in catharsis through writing. In burning off my pain through sublimation. So sometimes you gotta grip your dollies by the head and P U L L
> 
> Can we talk about Hordak's bimbofication arc? He went from big scary guy to this fragile damsel with huge boobs and a fat ass running around in a skimpy dress who needed other people to run his army. Some people are mad about it but I love it. 
> 
> Regardless, it’s so interesting to me that they went with like, a mega church prosperity gospel, pray the gay away, space Catholicism final boss. Prime is deeply rooted in all the negative aspects of Christianity and for someone who was raised Catholic, I love to see people make villains out of that. He’s terrible and fascinating and the only reason season 5 is watchable.
> 
> So if you want any links to the good porn on twitter, without facing the discourse, I go you covered. Just ask and I'll link you the accounts. If you wanna talk about Prime's fat tits with me, here is [my Tumblr.](https://rainbowstrashpile.tumblr.com/)


End file.
